Chapter Text
“What do you mean, there are no empty spots?” I echoed, even though I’d understood her perfectly the first time.
“The...the ethno-botany class f-fills up ve-very quickly...” the poor student administrator who appeared to fear for her life —Mary, according to her nametag— attempted to explain. “And w-with you being a v-visiting student...”
“I see,” I said, sighing. “What do you recommend then? I need the credit and this is the only empty spot I have left in my schedule.”
“Well...” she started tapping away on her keyboard. “You could take “Introduction to Hindi”, “Ancient Chinese art”, “The history of Eastern European cinema...”...
“Something medicine-related, perhaps?” I interrupted, before she could list every single obscure university class anyone had ever come up with.
Her eyebrows knotted together and she grew even more nervous, if that was possible.
“I’m afraid, we don’t have anything...”
Oh God.
“But wait!” her eyes lit up.
“Yes?”
“There’s “An Introduction to Scotland”. You aren’t from here, anyway. I’m sure you could learn a few interesting things, and it’s a very popular class...” she started rambling. “...it’s not too demanding and it’s a lecture, so it doesn’t have an attendance limit, which means I could add it to your schedule right now...” At the end of her little speech, she looked up at me with so much hope, I felt I had no choice, but to say yes.
“Fine. Please register me for that,” I said and I could literally see the weight rolling off of her shoulders.
“Done!” she squeaked and handed me my updated class schedule.
“Thank you,” I nodded as I took the piece of paper, glancing at it to make sure it was all right.
And there it was:
Monday, 10:00 – 11:30
An Introduction to Scotland
James Fraser
Building A, lecture hall 1.743
“Oh well. If I have to spend 90 minutes every week listening to some old guy mumbling about Jacobites and shinty, so be it,” I thought as I tucked the folded schedule into my bag. “At least, it’s not Eastern European cinema.”
~~~
After a weekend spent mostly unpacking and trying to find my way around Edinburgh, my first official day as a visiting student at the University of Edinburgh began rather early, with a 6 AM wake-up call and an 8 AM Intro to Neurology class. The professor, a gruff-looking man named Murtagh FitzGibbons did not waste too much time on pleasantries, launching into a detailed description of neuron types and neurotransmitters. Even if his manners were questionable, his expertise and teaching skills were not: by the time he finished the lecture, I’d filled 6 pages with notes and had barely noticed time passing. As I exited the lecture hall, I overheard a couple of students talking:
“God, if this was the first lecture, I don’t want to know what the exam will be like...”
“Yeah, I bet he asks you the one thing you don’t know...”
“Don’t worry... he seems like a tough guy, but he’s actually got a heart of gold,” someone interrupted. “If he sees that you’ve prepared, he won’t fail you.”
“I hope you’re right.”
I hoped so too.
After a coffee break, I headed to lecture hall 1.743. As it was only 9:50, and the class a “not too demanding” elective as Mary had put it, I expected an almost-empty room, with only the most devout of students present.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Lecture hall 1.743 was enormous, and yet, almost every seat was taken. There wasn’t a single empty spot in the first 10 or so rows, and in the upper ones, many people appeared to be holding seats for others, carefully placing their bags or coats over them. I quickly spied one near the very top that did not have such items on it, tapping the shoulder of the person sitting next to it:
“Is this seat taken?”
“No, feel free to sit down,” he smiled at me, extending a hand. “I’m Joe, by the way.”
“Claire,” I said, shaking it. “You don’t sound Scottish.”
He chuckled.
“Damn. You’d think that after 5 years here, I would have managed to pick the accent up,” he said with a grin, and then added, “I’m from the US. Moved here to be with my girlfriend.”
“That’s... really nice of you, actually,” I replied, swallowing the bitterness in my throat. “I’m from England. Here for a term.”
Joe nodded and we proceeded to spend the remaining 8 minutes chatting. I found out that we were both med students, even having a few classes in common, and that he was taking this class for extra credit.
I was in the middle of a sentence, when the chatter suddenly died away. I turned my attention towards the blackboard and that was the time I first saw James Fraser.
He’s not old.
That was my first thought. On the contrary, James Fraser happened to be quite young. I couldn’t see much of him due to the distance between the lectern and where I was sitting, but I could definitely tell that he had a curly mop of red hair and moved with an energy and determination that made me suspect he wasn’t older than 30.
“Is this thing on?” he spoke into the microphone that broadcast his voice around the lecture hall, and I suddenly understood why his classes drew this much of an audience. He had an amazing voice, smooth like honey. After an affirmative cheer from the students, he grabbed the microphone from its stand and started walking around, speaking.
“Hello, everyone. My name is James Fraser and I would like to welcome ye to this class. I’m so glad to see you all here. Whether yer Scottish and finally decided to learn about yer homeland or ye’d never even heard of this wee country until a week ago, I hope that by the end of the term, ye’ll be fascinated by its history and traditions. So, let’s start at the beginning...”
He was a born storyteller. I had never been much of a history buff, preferring practical knowledge, and Frank had bored me to death more than once with his long-winded monologues about his ancestors, but the way this James Fraser talked about the early settlers of Scotland made me hang on to his every word.
“He’s good,” I whispered to Joe and he nodded in agreement. We parted ways at the end of the lecture, exchanging contact info.
“Have fun in Pediatrics!” I called to him as he was walking away and then fished my schedule out of my bag to check where my next class was.
~~~
The rest of the day was rather uneventful. I had a lecture on nutrition, which was mostly revision for me and so was my only practical class of the day, where we stitched some wounds shut. I went back to my dorm room that I shared with Louise, a girl I had not actually met yet.
“Hello!” I called as I pushed the door open, revealing a blonde girl, wearing a skimpy lace top and skinny jeans. She’d been doing something on her laptop, but slammed it shut the moment I entered. Apparently I’d disturbed something.
“Uhm, I can leave if...” I started, but she interrupted me, springing to her feet.
“No, no, no, that’s OK. Was just chatting to my boyfriend. You know, he gets soo, soo lonely...” she explained, her bright pink lips forming a perfect pout.
That was something I didn’t want to imagine.
“I’m Claire,” I said instead.
“Louise, nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too.”
We chatted for a bit, she told me that she was part French and studying Communication and Media, I told her that I was from England, just the regular small talk. She seemed nice enough, bubbly and sociable, rattling off more names (important people on campus she claimed she knew) than I could even remember. Even though she made no indication of wanting to continue the conversation with her boyfriend, I assumed she did, so I excused myself and went to the library and then to the kitchen for dinner, only returning in the evening, when she was already in bed. I showered quickly and was about to turn in when I saw that I had a bunch of texts, all from Geilis.
Geillis [22:32] Sooo? How was your first day, hon?
Geillis [22:32] Doctor, I need an urgent report
Geillis [22:33] Any hot Scots?
Geillis [22:34] I mean, obviously, there are a bunch (myself included), but you know what I mean
Geillis [22:35] I’ve heard they don’t wear anything under their kilts
Geillis [22:35] You should check that out. Just for research, ye ken
I rolled my eyes. Leave it to my best friend to go from an innocent, friendly message to the topic of underdressed men in 5 texts.
Claire [23:11] What do you mean you’ve heard? You’re Scottish, I’m sure you know exactly what they do or do not wear
Claire [23:13] It went fine. Had 4 classes, 2 were great, the other 2 were OK. Met a nice guy (he has a girlfriend, before you get any ideas)
Claire [23:14] My roommate is kinda like a blonde version of you
I put my phone on the nightstand and fell asleep.